


The Next Ten Days

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sam Winchester, Angst, Bonding, Comfort Reading, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Drama, Exhaustion, Family, Fluff, Frustration, Guilt, Human Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, Multi, Nightmares, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Romance, Sappy, Sick Dean Winchester, Threesome - M/M/M, looking back, wincestielweek13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pushed to their breaking points, or whatever they call it these days, Sam, Dean and Cas move in together to try to create some semblance of peace and home between the three of them. Domestic AU. Human!Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Ten Days

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for #wincestielweek13 on tumblr; there currently seems to not be enough love for this fantastic ship.

_Day One ~ Imagine_

Nothing had ever felt more real as he held the key in his hand, a sole object, brushing the smooth, metal surface with his thumb until Dean snatched it away and reality had settled in permanently around him. 

He never figured Cas would be good at this kind of stuff; he’s only been human for seven months and already he’s adjusted, or as adjusted as he’s ever gonna get cause let’s face it, there’s just some things about that used to be angel that are never gonna change, that _should never be changed._ A million and one reasons why Sam Winchester loves Castiel exactly the way he is, and he was only stupid enough for a second to imagine falling might change Cas in ways he wouldn’t like. 

If anything, Cas giving all he’s ever known up and taking the final step towards becoming a human just means he can be with the two of them permanently, no excuses and no strings attached. And if Sam likes anything at all, it’s no strings attached. 

What Sam Winchester likes even better is Cas living with them under the same roof, bumping into each other day in and day out, waking up to gaze into his cerulean eyes, or more like drown in them, knowing that if Cas can’t get him to face the day, no one will be able to. Sam had pondered another thing too, that maybe he wouldn’t stay, that maybe he’d get this desire that even kinda makes sense to just take off and travel the world, experience all that one can experience about being human, and Sam would have hated him for that but he also would have understood, because he strangely gets Castiel in most ways, even more than Dean does sometimes. 

Cas knows this, he convinces himself, Cas knows this from the looks and the laughter they share, until Dean steps in to ruin or more like _liven up_ the moment. 

Sam smiles, squinting at the sun hindering his eyesight and causing him to pull his eyebrows too close together for comfort. He puts a hand up over his eyes even though there’s a large, shady oak tree barely two steps away. He simply doesn’t want to move, wants to watch Dean and Cas unpack the car and drag their luggage up to the porch, where one of those moving bench things sways slightly in the warm breeze. 

He can picture it now: the house coming alive with light at night, hearing their laughter inside as they talk about mindless bullshit and the smells of whatever Cas has decided to cook or bake for that night. Oh, has he mentioned? Cas is a terrific cook. 

Sam can imagine himself curling up on the porch, snuggling up beside the two of them, he and his brother cramming Cas in the middle like they’ve started doing lately. Who the hell knows what pushed them to this? One hunt too many or one mistake too much? All Sam knows is that the three of them can’t afford to look back or throw themselves into the hunts any longer; they’re getting older and slower and more prone to a break here and there, here and there _too often._

“You coming?” Cas calls after him, Dean already lost inside the maze of their new house; a new place for Sam to dare enter and explore. He looks up at him, swearing he can see his eyes shimmer in the sun, his soft, charcoal hair calling out for Sam to run his fingers through. He wants to say that this’ll do, this house, but deep down he knows this’ll more than _just_ do. This _is_ the home for them, Cas certainly does have a good eye. 

“Yeah!” Sam calls back, reconsidering if this is what he wants for the final time, because as soon as he takes the steps leading up to the porch he will not be able to turn back. He will not be able to let go of this life. 

He will remain here with Dean and Castiel and be happy, maybe get a little job and come home to this perfect little life it’s shaping up to be. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself this time, letting his fingers brush against the bark of the oak tree before he takes small though confident steps towards the still open door. The closer he walks the clearer he can hear his brother and Cas, the nearer he gets the more he wants them, wants _this._

Sam steps inside and closes the door, starting the next stage of his life. 

 

_Day Two ~ Adjustments_

Dean unwillingly lets his presence be known by coughing loudly as he carries the paper bags of groceries inside. The woods are dark and gloomy so they don’t venture within, and Cas is so bored he’s already picking out a potential Christmas tree even though it’s September. Sam still laughs from the absurdity of it all, feeling more of that enormous weight he’s carried for so long being lifted off his shoulders as each day goes by in this quiet and peaceful place. 

He’s never seen Cas happier either, and it feels so great to indulge him. 

Sam’s worried about Dean though, who carries a helluva lot more guilt around than he does and spends too much of his own time trying his damnedest to hide it away inside. What Dean has never learned is the art of forgiveness, and Sam wants, has wanted so much to tell Dean that there’s no way he can keep it inside forever. It’ll come out, like it has before, and it’ll be terrible for all three of them. 

And Sam really doesn’t want to let anything drag this perfect little life they’re trying to create down, but saying anything to Dean is the equivalent of starting up a conversation with a brick wall. Dean gets standoffish to hide his embarrassment and the possibility that everything just might fall down around him, burying him underneath its emotional rubble. 

He lets Castiel take charge and deal with his brother more often than not, hating to use that word choice, but Cas has always been able to connect with Dean in ways that Sam could never reach or Cas could never hope to explain to him. Dean and Cas just have that... _profound bond_ for lack of a better word. He still snickers a little at that. 

He stares after Cas as he shuffles through the pine needles and opens the door as quietly as he can considering it squeaks pretty loudly. Through the glass of the window he can see Dean look up and then continue to put groceries away, and even though Sam can’t hear anything, he knows exactly what his brother’s trying to avoid and what Cas is trying to do, not necessarily yank the truth out of him but coax it out. Of course, no words need to be heard when Dean shoves Cas’ hand away, leading Sam to walk in and try to change the subject, but not before seeing the haze that passes over Dean’s face and through his eyes, his hand behind him, trying to hide the fact he just grabbed onto the counter behind him. 

This is going to get ugly if he lets it go on, and Cas gives him a warning look that sends chills even down his spine, but it doesn’t matter. They can try this again some other time... try and fail. 

“Did you bring back anything good?” He tries to say it enthusiastically but it comes out all wrong, strained and...

Dean leaves the kitchen and trudges out into the woods, Cas practically running after him to catch up. So much for a nice conversation over dinner. 

He finishes unpacking the groceries and then leans against the counter staring outside for an indeterminable amount of time, knowing he was an idiot for believing things would work out so well. They’re the Winchesters, if it’s not external forces it’s self-mutilation. If anyone can bring Dean back home though, back to his senses, it would be Castiel. Even when Dean lost his faith in Cas, he never lost his faith in Dean; meanwhile, Sam would always be the one to pick up the slack because the amount of faith he had in Cas couldn’t be measured. 

Sam sighs, feeling like he’s never been more isolated when the two people he loves most in the world are practically a hair’s breadth away from him. 

He can hear Dean and Cas coming back before seeing them, Dean’s boots crunching the leaves underneath him, and as soon as they step inside, on a whim he leans over and forcefully takes Dean’s head in his hands, kissing him slowly and purposefully, confirming his suspicions. Dean’s face is warm, and not in a healthy way either, his nose and cheeks are close to burning and his lips are beyond chapped and raw; Sam can taste a bit of blood on his tongue. 

It’s still a great kiss as far as he’s concerned, since his brother is kissing back and he is a great kisser, after all. 

That wasn’t his only reasoning for the unexpected gesture, a kiss from him is also the equivalent of telling the person receiving it that he’s there for them, no matter what, and if he wasn’t so damn worried he would liken Dean to a sad little puppy, wandering around and appearing to need some semblance of love. None of this seems to matter though because Dean doesn’t seem to notice his ulterior motive, and looks at him only briefly before plopping down on the couch in the other room and slipping his new reading glasses on to read. Sure, any other year and it would have truly been the strangest sight, but Dean’s been getting into reading since their hunts have lessened significantly and pretty much stopped for the time being currently, and the glasses lessen his headaches from reading. 

Sam looks away, he vividly remembers Dean specifying that they were to stop hunting when he was still in the hospital healing from his injury. Maybe it had been an excuse so Dean could take a break too, who had probably needed one for years yet never said anything because that right there _is_ Dean Winchester. Shut up until the going gets too tough and then still keep your mouth shut because really, what’s the sense in complaining?

Dean rarely even complained when he was on the brink of death, something Sam had to witness more times than he should be tortured with. Why should Dean say he needed to chill out for awhile unless he was appearing to do it solely for Sam? Now this was what really pissed him off... 

“Cas...,” he starts. 

“Dean needs time, Sam,” is the only thing he gets as a response, cause the next point of supposed relevancy, “I’ll get dinner cooking,” is the only other thing offered and that isn’t much better, if not significantly worse. Sam nods, suppressing a growl of impatience, and heads off into the woods, eyeing the trees again before finally settling with a hint of confidence and satisfaction on the tree Castiel had picked out. 

Maybe Christmas can come earlier this year; Dean could definitely do with some spiked eggnog and holiday tunes. 

They all could, really. 

 

_Day Three ~ Leaking_

He hears a noise, suspecting the house moving of its own volition again, looks up and sees cracks in the ceiling to go along with the ones in the tile, perhaps more than the day before. Who knows how many problems this place has, how many things he’ll need to fix. It looked awesome from the outside _and_ from the inside when they had first stepped within, then Sam had noticed minor flaws that were only now threatening to turn into much larger ones. 

And seriously, with all the problems the three of them still have combined, they don’t really need the house falling down around them anytime soon. 

Alright, so maybe the house was still a relatively good idea, they should bunker down in their own place anyway, but they’ve all been hiding secrets for god knows how long, whether physical or emotional, and Sam’s only just beginning to realize this as well as knowing he’s been kidding himself, not only his brother and Cas. 

His injury’s healing nicer than can be expected, but he’s been a fool to push himself too much, straining the one limb he shouldn’t be straining. He sighs in annoyance at the stiffness of it as he rolls out of bed; there’s been too much time gone by for it to become life-threatening again, but that doesn’t mean Sam’s too happy to put up with this either. Some injuries, they just take too long to heal and still bite you in the ass when you think it’s all been said and done with. 

He sits down and jabs the spoon into his cereal with his left hand, chewing loudly, not caring if he wakes up the other two. It’s still awkward to use his left but he’s had to get used to it, that’s what happens when you’re stabbed by a knife-wielding maniac, who you took your eyes off of for one second, in your right arm. 

Shit, it wasn’t pretty. 

His whole life too, Dean had been the only one to baby him, to be right there, right up in his face for whatever he needed or might ever need in the hours or days to come. Sometimes, he had to admit, it was comforting, and he always thanked Dean whether his efforts were appreciated or not, but there were other times that Sam just wanted to knock Dean out so he could have a moment to be alone. He supposes there will always be minor downfalls for Cas coming into their lives, and the first and only one so far reared its ugly head in the aftermath of his injury. 

Because if anyone in the world can baby him better than Dean can, you can damn right bet that it’d be Castiel.

It was like he never fell in the first place, flitting about so quickly that Sam would only have to blink and realize instead of being three feet away he was one inch. Well, he had been pretty out of it in pain for a week or so, so maybe it was several blinks but still, no one in the world should have the ability to move that fast. His hands had constantly been at work cooking for him or fluffing his pillows or holding his head up while he drank, saying Sam shouldn’t waste effort in lifting his head off the pillow and _fuck..._

Why is he thinking about this torment again? And where was he...?

Cas chooses that moment to walk into the room, stumbling around like a zombie, eyes only set on the coffee pot as he pours the dark liquid into his huge, favorite coffee mug that Dean painted ‘World’s Best Angel’ on as a joke. It takes about ten minutes, Cas slowly waking up and only just realizing that Sam is in the room before he talks. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Sam bites his tongue after that, though too angry to regret his word choice and lack of hesitation. Cas just raises his eyebrow at him and leaves the room, knowing better not to test him when his arm’s hurting. He gets up and throws the bowl into the sink, brushing a hand through his long hair. 

And that’s when he notices the leak, notices it when water starts dripping down on his head, that is. 

_Shit._ Looks like that long drawn-out break isn’t coming. 

Sam starts to feel better sooner rather than later, spending a large portion of the remainder of the day thinking about what the three of them could wile away the days with, other than getting jobs. Castiel walks into the room for only a moment, grabbing another cup of coffee, black, always black. His head bobs back and forth to something Sam can’t hear, courtesy of the ear-buds jammed into his ear that came along with an ipod Sam picked up for him. Cas turned out to love it and would often bug Dean to hear a certain song he always deemed ‘girly,’ claiming Sam was a corrupting influence on Cas. 

Sometimes, he would just watch as his brother ripped the ear-buds out of his ears and dragged Cas into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Sam would never get jealous, they were all three together enough as it was that they would need their space occasionally; it wasn’t about preference either, on a whim Sam would either want Dean or Cas and it never really mattered. 

They all loved one another, would die for one another, and just because Sam had fallen in love with Cas first didn’t dictate who loved Cas more or vice versa. Cas loved them both and it wasn’t confusing. It was blissful. 

Despite the clouds still hanging partially over his head, Sam can’t help but laugh when he hears Cas start to sing and Dean shouting for him to come take their deranged boyfriend away. 

 

_Day Four ~ Wings_

The minutes and hours fade in and out as he listen to Cas moving about in the kitchen, doing whatever the hell he does in there, and Dean coughing in the other room. It got so annoying at one point that he finally had to end up closing the door, but out of pity he pulled the window up to allow his brother some fresh air, then still couldn’t resist and leaned over to kiss Dean, who as a result, unconsciously rolled over towards Sam and mumbled his nickname. Sam had smiled at that, recalling a time where he had flat out said that only Dean could call him ‘Sammy,’ and had rubbed their noses together affectionately and kissed Dean for another long moment before pulling away and shutting the door behind him. 

The living room is quickly becoming his favorite spot, it’s homey and while the couch may not be big enough or completely suited to his tastes in other ways, he still likes to stretch out and read the books he’s picked up at the used bookstore in town. Dean’s becoming a faster reader than he is, and he can smell him along with the familiar old scent of frequently read books among the pages. 

Cas settles beside him with Sam’s laptop, keeping an eyes on potential hunts, but it’s more to pass the time than anything else, none of them are serious enough to head out on another hunt at this point. More and more he’s wanting to stay here for yet another reason: he wants to find out what’s wrong with Dean and heal the rift he’s put up between them. 

“You ever miss being an angel, Cas?” The sentence brings about a silence in the now angel turned human that slightly scares him; Sam should’ve known better than to bring this up. 

He finally answers, “There was nothing for me in that,” another long pause, “except enabling me to better protect you two.” 

Sam nods thoughtfully at that, “Though what about your wings? Doesn’t it...,” he doesn’t know what other word to use, “hurt? The fact that they’re gone?”

“You are my wings, Sam.” Sam is driven speechless, hearing Cas say that, it’s like finally coming home after years away. He hasn’t said anything like that to him since Sam straight out told him he wanted to be with him and loved him, and he definitely doesn’t know what to say to it now. Cas looks over at him and smiles, his beautiful, blue eyes saying far more than words ever could. 

He lifts up his arm so Castiel can fit himself under it; he’s so good at deception, at making Sam wholly believe that he is meant to fit there. Hell, Cas is the one who wants to snuggle all the time, whether it’s on the couch or in bed, and Dean can’t completely deny wanting it either, though doesn't offer or welcome it like Sam does. 

He finds himself thinking about what Cas’ wings would have looked like if he had ever gotten to see them; not even that but what they would have _felt_ like, just ordinary bird feathers or a silky texture that drives Sam crazy in the wish that he would have really loved to have felt them. 

Cas doesn’t talk about being an angel, doesn’t even say the word anymore. He and Dean witnessed the short-lived pain and grief he had to endure before forcing himself to adjust to humanity, and now he often takes note of the painfully human qualities in Castiel, such as a loss of purpose and identity. Sam can’t tell if Castiel is more broken than he lets on, he supposes they’re all sort of broken and guilty in their own ways, though Cas doesn’t seem to be hiding anything, and Dean would have no doubt brought it up to him if he suspected something going on. 

Castiel’s good at sensing things even though he’s not an angel anymore, parts of it probably remained with him as a reminder of once being one, of the choice he made to forsake it to remain permanently with Dean and Sam. Sam likes to think that he didn’t once press Cas, but maybe unwilling he had by telling him that he wanted to be with him and that he loved him. Shortly before he fell they unanimously agreed to pull Dean in as well, who reluctantly admitted his feelings following the best round of sex Sam’s honestly ever had. 

After looking in the direction of the sole bedroom for a moment or two, he gets up off the couch, causing Sam to look after him in confusion as he enters the room. He can hear hushed and slightly angry voices before he drags Dean out and before Sam’s surprised and pleased gaze, which he makes sure to let his brother see. 

“Hey, come sit with us.” He smiles warmly, patting the spot beside him even though he’s aware it won’t be a factor in Dean’s decision. Considering his standoffish nature for the past week or so, he’ll probably just end up sitting in the chair across from him if he even stays in the room at all. Cas pushes him forward though, urgently though gently, and the second Dean sits partially down Sam urges Dean himself to scoot farther back, pulling Dean’s head towards him and kissing him. 

Dean kisses back tiredly, and when Sam runs his hand up and down his back he sags into him. With all his attention on his brother, he doesn’t notice the cause of Dean’s tensing until he realizes Cas is pulling his shirt off, trying not to move his limbs too much. “Hey,” he whispers, “let me.” He hands his brother over to Castiel’s waiting arms and takes Dean’s outer shirt off effortlessly, skilled at doing it from too many years of having to pick Dean up when he fell down, let his own strong, steady fingers take over when his brother couldn’t. 

Dean’s more accustomed to Sam’s touch than Castiel’s and the latter realizes this, a small frown flitting over his face before being replaced with concern and concentration. Sam’s touch is light, not wanting to cause his brother to pull away; it’s better if they just both pretend nothing’s really happening.

No chick flick moments to take notice of here. 

Sam tries to smile for Dean’s sake, but it fades when he notices the heat emanating from him. It was easy enough for him to hide by avoiding Sam and Cas like the plague, but he couldn’t ignore it now if he wanted to. He exchanges the shirt to Cas for Dean, kissing his cheek when he moans, running his fingers through his sweat slicked hair. 

And Dean finally relaxes under his brother’s ministrations. 

It’s about another forty-five minutes before he finally sinks down into sleep, Sam stroking his forehead lazily, Cas on the other end, securing Dean between the two of them. He wants to ask Cas what happened and almost does, but he bites down on his tongue before opening his mouth too much. Dean’s in a light doze and he wants it to be deeper; none of them need to be talking or moving about right now, no matter how stiff his bad arm is getting. 

Castiel looks over at him and smiles and somehow in that, Sam Winchester is convinced that everything will be okay in the end. 

 

_Day Five ~ Onslaught_

Sam’s noticed Dean coughing for days but has chosen to brush it aside and stupidly trust Dean’s promises of it being nothing more than a tickle in his throat. Sam wants to punch him in the face for that but figures one of the things he should let his brother do is breathe. It’s sort of a relief that he brushes him off though, considering the pain he harbors quietly with his own injury. He really doesn’t want to deal with Dean saying ‘I’m fine’ repeatedly anyway, so he leaves him alone and bunkers down in the living room, intent to make up for his prior flippant tone with Cas by playing board games with him all day, games which Castiel is fond of. 

They play checkers and backgammon and monopoly and Cas beats him into a bloody pulp, figuratively anyway, until Sam says he’s done with chess. The only thing Sam draws the line at is Twister; he doesn’t even feel like moving his right arm today and his pride can’t handle its inevitable wounding, a part Cas all too happily plays a part in anytime they drag it out from the bottom of the suitcase. He’s a freaking beast at games, especially Twister. 

Cas doesn’t seem to mind though, and they curl up on the patio just like Sam previously envisioned before he even accepted this house as his own, Cas eventually getting restless like he often does and moving down to massage Sam’s feet, who moans at the sensation of Castiel’s gentle though highly skilled fingers starting at the soles of his feet and moving slowly, in a perfect pace, up to his legs. He’s done this enough to know how Sam likes it, massages that are drawn out, feeling like they last for hours if he closes his eyes; Dean prefers back massages, rough too, which often leads to lazy sex. 

Sam definitely doesn't complain about his feet hurting those days. 

Castiel lies back down with him once he’s through, kissing him slowly yet deeply; Sam runs his fingers through his hair and can feel how relaxed he is against him. It’s a wonder he hasn’t complained once about being human and lying here with him day in and day out, wrapped up in each other. 

Eventually the rain comes back, pattering lightly on the roof before pouring down more vehemently and leading Sam to remember there’s a leak in the house. Cas is the one to sit up first, so Sam easily pushes away and they hurry inside, the door slamming shut behind them which causes Sam to jump. Once it does the house is plunged into darkness and silence other than the sound of the rain, which makes it all the more easier to hear the next sound. 

It is unmistakably coming from the direction of the bedroom and therefore, Dean. 

Forgetting about the leak entirely, Sam runs into the bedroom, eyes widening as he instantly catches sight of his brother, heaving and struggling to breathe, hands desperately clutching a pillow. He barely registers Castiel brushing past him to hop up on the bed next to Dean, providing something more substantial for him to hold onto, Dean’s fingers instantly gripping his arm like a vice. Sam can hear his own name being called but it sounds faint, and Dean’s eyes finally latching intensely onto his own breaks him out of his daze, making him burst into panic as he rushes over, grabbing hold of him and pulling him more firmly upright, back against his chest. He dips him forward a little and smacks his back lightly, then more forcefully when he sees his brother’s frantic grip on Castiel falter completely, too weak from lack of oxygen. 

Sam would almost bet that his brother is going to hack up a lung at the rate he’s going, the sweat drenching both of their bodies now and the sounds Dean’s making scaring him half to death; panic wells up even tighter within his chest, giving him a hard time breathing and focusing. At the end though, Sam manages to help dislodge whatever was stuck in Dean’s throat, this disgusting yellow stuff that ends up on the carpet, and Sam pretty much sags in relief at the lack of the lung’s presence. 

Dean really is going to be the death of him someday. 

Sam knows how much Dean is relying on him right now; Cas, hardly knowing anything about taking care of humans, isn’t the one to help here, only to provide comfort. “It’s alright, Dean,” he can hear Cas saying, Dean heaving, wheezing, struggling to calm down. Sam feels some of the weight lifted off his shoulders at Castiel being here, given he’s too preoccupied at gaging Dean’s condition to reassure his brother himself. 

Dean has two people who love him and look after him and Sam, despite this horrible moment, finally realizes that this really was the best option after all. 

They settle Dean back against the pillows, changing him into new clothes and hovering over him like the two mother hens that they are, spending time to cool him down, coax some pills and water into him, and rub some peppermint oil on his chest. There’s a bathroom in the room and as an extra precaution, Sam instructs Castiel to turn the shower on to the hottest temperature it can go, letting some menthol crystals he always keeps on hand dissolve in the water, explaining that the steam wafting into the bedroom may help Dean breathe easier, loosening up anything else that may form. They have to be careful when they handle a sick Dean, it doesn’t come around often, but when it does it’s infinitely harder than with the two of them. 

Cas has only gotten sick once since he fell, and it had only lasted a few days, a few days of obeying Sam when he told him to eat or take medication or sleep. They spent most of the time snuggling on the bed actually. Sam was the same, catching the same cold Cas had, though he had to instruct him as to what to do since that aspect of humanity was relatively new to him. 

But Dean? Forget about handling him the same way, he was impossible to care for. He would push Sam away at every twist or turn, do everything in his power to act like a total idiot and get sicker. He often pushed so much that Sam wanted to walk away, though of course never would; it’s so great to have Castiel here to support him. All he forces himself to think now is that Dean’s a fighter, a Winchester and that means he’ll make it. 

He’ll make it or the two of them will kick his ass to kingdom come. 

“He’s going to be fine, Sam.” Cas’ words echo in his head and they may not reassure him, but his warm, steadying hand on his shoulder does, as well as the kiss to his cheek when he pulls up a chair and guides Sam down into it. 

He really doesn’t know what the hell he’d do without Cas, and hopes he never has to find out. 

 

_Day Six ~ Idol_

Castiel has to eventually snap him out of his daze by dragging him out of the bedroom which is slowly becoming his grave. His worries of his brother getting sicker and leaving him permanently continually plague him, leaving him no room to think of anything else. He barely registers Castiel sitting him down on the couch, though obediently eats the bowl of soup he sets down in front of him. It’s slow progress given the fact it’s harder to eat with his left hand than right, and he has to pause more than once to sob uncontrollably. 

His arm’s a mess, it hurts worse today than he’s experienced since it began healing. 

And what’s happening to Dean is just hitting him too hard, he supposes. 

Cas looks overly concerned as he wipes Sam’s tears away, seeming frustrated and at a complete loss for what to do. It takes Sam a lot of effort, but he pulls through for him and smiles the worst smile he’s probably ever smiled in his life. Cas laughs a broken laugh and takes the hand Sam offers, sitting down beside him. 

Hours go by surfing the web for potential hunts and Castiel reading from the old paperback books they’ve all compiled into a cardboard box next to the couch, Cas deeming if one of them is good enough to continue reading and if not, throwing it back into the box. He steals the majority of Sam’s attention and it couldn’t be more appreciated. They keep an ear out for Dean throughout, with Cas being the one to get up off the couch occasionally to go check on him since he won’t let Sam move an inch. 

After a board game or two they finally relax further, stretching out. It’s a tight fit, their limbs fighting for space, hanging off the ends of the too small piece of furniture, but Dean needs the bed more, should have the space and comfort and the mountain of pillows he is pressed upright against, to help his breathing. 

Sam has been wanting this for hours but has been too guilty to ask Cas, what with Dean's condition weighing on the both of them and the ever growing list of maintenance their new house has to receive, the leak in the roof still nagging Sam. He seems to be finally pressing Sam now though, giving him what he deems ‘a well-deserved break,’ allowing Cas to apparently do something good for him. Whatever that means. At any other time he would be excited and happy, but watching over Dean and the throbbing in his arm has exhausted him; Castiel seems tired too, his face slightly sinking and eyes dull and clouded. 

He’s as worried about Dean as he is. 

Of course, they do have that bond after all, and he loves Dean as much as Sam does: too much but sometimes it seems not nearly enough. 

Castiel is delicate with Sam, and the sex is easygoing and requiring no exertion on his part; when they finish Sam sighs, contented and sated. He wraps an arm around Cas and pulls him more firmly into him, Cas’ head resting on his shoulder. They still had tried to be quiet, despite knowing that Dean's horrible coughs, forceful enough to steal his breath away and frighteningly shake his entire frame, were pretty much loud enough to engulf any other noise, and the fact that his brother had been lost in his own world for a while now, overtaken by delirium. Even if something exploded he most likely wouldn't register it. 

Right now, despite his still painful though calming down arm, and panic whenever he hears another cough or moan emanate from the other room, Sam’s at peace just where he is, holding the smaller human to him like a lifeline, his long limbs tangled around Cas' as his heartbeat soothes him down into sleep. He finally realizes how much he truly needed this after all. 

With one last hold onto consciousness, he kisses Cas and mumbles, “Love you.” 

He wakes up from his nap in the mid-afternoon, confused and surprised to find Cas gone but wandering into the bedroom regardless on instinct, discovering he’s at Dean’s bedside, who’s finally quieted down. The end table is littered with various food and drinks; leave it to Castiel to be at a loss when it comes to Dean being sick. He doesn’t say a word though because he sees how tired he looks, and wonders if he even slept at all or has just been in here with Dean the entire time. 

Sam blinks a few times, forcing himself to come awake, and makes his way over to Dean. “You manage to get any food or fluids in him?” 

Cas shakes his head in exasperation, but provides Sam with some relief and hope, “Only a little.” Then says wryly, “Leave it to Dean to be picky when he probably hasn’t eaten in days.” Sam’s eyebrows rise at that, Cas goes to on to explain, “The fridge is fuller than it should be, so are the cupboards.”

Total control freak. 

He thinks about it though, when Sam tried to press the other day, Cas had stated with no room for argument that Dean needed time, but it’s becoming clear now that they shouldn’t have been giving it to him, or that Cas shouldn’t have shut Sam out, more like it. His brother’s been shutting him out for most of his life, though even more so in the last week. 

Sam easily saw the last hunt hitting home for Dean, the look in his eyes when he woke up in the hospital, the slow and exhausted movements he would make, as if he had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders for so long and it was only now beginning to crush him. And he would never let Sam take any of it willingly, he would shove him off when he offered. Dean’s biggest problems were his guilt and lack of self-worth, the realization that was slowly dawning on him that he apparently wasn’t a hero, would lose Sam someday due to his mistake because in Dean’s eyes it would always be _his_ mistake. 

Sam knew it wasn’t just from years of Dad drilling it into his eldest son’s head, that he had to protect Sam at all costs and if he didn’t, there would be no one else to lay the fault on because no one else would be there for Sam as much as Dean would be. His brother had been doing it to himself all his life, Sam leaving for college was one thing: blame; Dean coming back to claim Sam was another: guilt, dragging Sam back into their father’s mess and knowing if he failed to protect him it would be all on him. 

But that wasn’t all that Dean was, and Sam had long since given up convincing Dean of that. 

He is such a good person, the best Sam knows, and he is nothing less than a hero in his little brother’s eyes. Dean isn’t only Sam’s idol for life, since childhood, but also his best friend and one of the people he loves and always feels the fierce need to protect, even from himself. None of that should have changed... but he had lost sight. 

Now he was ready to take action, one step at a time. 

His head becomes clearer than it has in days after he showers and accepts Castiel’s convincing argument to eat. Sam makes the decision to go into town and pick up so supplies to fix up the house. He doesn’t alert Cas until the next morning, who wants to go with him but eventually settles for staying with Dean, which is good because Sam wants to be alone anyway. 

He wants to get the house done before Dean comes back to himself. 

Wants to make this _right._

 

_Day Seven ~ Hammer_

He fingers the wad of cash in his pocket as he pushes the cart down the aisle, quickly scanning the shelves, wanting to get back to Dean and Cas preventing him from wallowing in his head and thinking the worst for the time being. He’s made a short list of the things he needs and might need in the days or weeks to come, plans to swing by the grocery store after this, but still can’t help but pick a few extra things up as well. Things they might not need at the moment but Sam has an indulgence for. 

It’s already dark out when he rearranges the bags in the trunk, securing Dean’s cherry pie to make sure it won’t tip over on the ride back. The cold air is quickly swallowing him up and he pulls his coat tighter around him as he settles himself inside, more than once on the ride back wishing Castiel was beside him to warm him up. It’s worth his absence though when he pulls up and is grabbed by and engulfed in a hug with him the moment he gets out of the car, coming out of nowhere, warming Sam instantly even as the night seems to grow colder around them. 

Suddenly, Sam feels a sharp pang in his chest. 

He wants Dean out here, laughing or complaining as he’s pressed up tight against the two of them, all three fighting playfully for equal attention and bragging rights on who seems to be getting more kisses, bets on who get who tonight and who has to watch and pout until they get their turn. Cas seems to read his mind, which finally causes the two to pull away. 

“How is he?”

“Better.” 

Sam feels an abrupt anger rush through him at not being with Dean himself, at having to rely on Castiel telling him his condition when Sam’s convinced he’s certainly not telling him everything. 

And then it hits him. Finally. 

“He’s been having nightmares again, hasn't he? He finally admitted it to you.” Sam’s tone is accusing and he can see Castiel’s face fall.

“He didn’t want you to know...”

“Goddammit, Cas,” he growls, cutting him off. He grabs as many bags as he can and trudges inside, shouting at Cas to go get the rest without turning around. He’s still mad, at Cas, at Dean, but the anger dissipates when he catches sight of his brother, sitting up and awake, nothing less than completely gorgeous and a sight that steals Sam’s breath away. 

Sam wonders how long he’s been awake... wonders... 

He’s already stripping himself of his own clothes when he practically jumps up onto the bed beside him, smiling down at Dean, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, cupping Dean’s face in his hands and kissing him, claiming his lips as his own, which successfully snaps his brother out of whatever daydream he’s been in. 

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Sam?” He looks down as his brother removes his socks, making his way back up to him and kissing him again, thumbs brushing against the sides of Dean’s face. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head in exasperation, “You. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“What, like stuff me in a freaking box or something...?” The next kiss startles Dean even more than the first, Sam can tell as much, he can also tell that he wants to talk more but Sam isn’t giving in this time. He’s been wanting to feel Dean inside of him for more than a week, feel Dean’s tongue inside his mouth and indulging other parts of his body. He wants to watch Dean’s beautiful figure surrender underneath him, driven speechless not only by Sam's mouth. 

He wants Dean all to himself tonight, and no one is going to tell him no. 

“You better tell me right now, Dean. Are you hurting anywhere?”

Dean’s eyes are wide, but he can also see the pleasure of surprise within their depths, “What...?”

“I said,” he starts to rid Dean of his sweats and shirt, knowing to be extra careful at this but careless as he chucks them over his shoulder. “Where does it hurt?”

“Nowhere, I’m...,” he moans as Sam’s mouth moves perilously lower, lips brushing over sensitive skin, “I’m fine.” And Sam knows he’s lying, lying through his freaking teeth but he’ll just have to be careful, because he can tell Dean needs this even more than Sam wants it.

“Sammy...”

And he pulls away slightly, “What’s wrong?” He licks his lips, already missing the taste of Dean, already wanting more, feeling like a hungry animal that won’t be able to hold out much longer. He can’t believe he’s waited this long, handled Dean pushing him away and thought nothing more of it, the kisses Sam gave him more for making conclusions than anything else. “Tell me what you need.”

The door’s shut tightly behind them, Sam made sure of that because he doesn’t want Cas coming in or watching. He can’t handle anything other than Dean tonight. His beautiful brother: cheeks still flushed a worrying red but Sam can feel that the heat emanating from his skin is far less than before, and his breathing no longer resembles that of a death rattle. His eyes are bright but not only from the last remnants of his fever, he’s glad Sam's here. 

“I need you.”

Sam grins, returning back down to Dean’s skin, stripping him of his boxers. He looks up, into his beautiful hazel eyes and at his slightly parted lips, full and perfect. “Then you have me, for the night, for as long as you want me. I love you, Dean.” He leans up to give him a quick kiss before scooting himself further down the bed, fully prepared to be gentle but still give his brother one of the best nights of his life. 

If not the best. 

He still loses himself in the memory hours later; he vacated the room half an hour ago to let Dean rest, padding out of the house on his tiptoes upon seeing Castiel asleep on the couch. He felt a little guilty, going over to kiss him on the forehead before grabbing one of the bags he brought home and heading outside, setting up a ladder to lead up to the roof and climbing up, relishing the cool night air around him, seeing daylight start to peek out from behind the clouds, purple swallowing up the black of the sky. 

He hadn’t wanted to take a shower, didn't want the smell of Dean to fade from his skin. 

Sam finds the source of the leak and goes to work on it, still hearing Dean’s moans of pleasure as he lifts up his tool...

The hammer collides with his thumb. 

 

_Day Eight ~ Easy_

Sam doesn’t register himself howling, but figures he must have when he manages to climb down from the roof to see Castiel rushing out of the house, panic and worry in his eyes. He pays him no mind though, he is angry, more like furious given the many other pressing emotions roiling inside him. He considers that giving out a response he normally wouldn't have alerted the world to, is a result of all these emotions being pent up within him for too long, and when the hammer hit a mark it wasn’t supposed to, he supposes it also made him implode. 

Now, there’s no going back. 

He should have known he couldn’t have held it off forever. 

“Let me see, let me see,” Cas pleads, Cas insists and after realizing he’s not gonna quit, not when either of the two Winchester brothers are involved, Sam finally, albeit reluctantly, gives Cas his hand for him to scrutinize and wrap up and baby long after the wound’s stopped hurting. Sam almost smiles fondly when thinking of that, but he bites the side of his mouth, not wanting Cas to see it. He can wonder if he might have seen a smirk quirk the side of his mouth, but Sam will never give him more proof than that. 

“Come on into the kitchen with me and we’ll bandage it up...”

Sam’s anger and frustration gets the better of him and he storms away, making a beeline for the bedroom. Dean’s still asleep and he settles for sitting beside him; he’ll wait for as long as he has to, he’ll keep it all inside until then, but he’ll be here when Dean wakes up. 

Castiel pokes his head in the doorway but Sam shakes his head and he disappears; he slides his brother’s socks back onto his chilled feet, ignoring his incessantly throbbing thumb, and plants a line of small kisses from his neck up to the tip of his forehead, straying into his spiky hair. He looks down and sees his brother’s eyes open a little. “Hey, Dean. Don’t...,” he pauses, takes a deep breath, “go back to sleep yet. I need to talk to you.”

Dean’s eyes open further at that but he doesn't try to get away, probably seeing in Sam’s eyes that he wouldn’t make it far. 

“Go ahead, Sam,” his voice is sore and Sam hands him a glass of water, which he accepts. “Ask me whatever you want.”

“I want _you_ to talk to _me,”_ he takes Dean’s warm hand in his own and squeezes it, kissing his wrist gently. “I want you to tell me about them, the nightmares. If I needed to tell you, you would listen. And now you need to tell me, because I’m ready to listen.” He takes another deep breath, better not stop now. “I don’t want you to shut yourself away from me anymore, Dean. I know you tell Cas, and I’m not mad at you. But I want to help, it doesn’t make you weak, Dean. It makes you _strong._ Let me carry you for a little while, please. I need this. Then I’ll let you take over again, okay? Then you can protect me and put me first. But not now, Dean,” he presses, “not right now.”

Dean doesn’t intercept him during any of this, doesn’t appear like he’s about ready to bolt or shrink down inside himself to escape what he no doubt calls a chick flick moment. Sam takes this as a good sign and waits patiently.

He has all the patience in the world for his brother right now. 

“I just...,” Dean’s voice cracks and Sam pushes himself nearer, squeezing himself tightly into Dean, stroking his arm, kissing his hand, anything he can do to make Dean cut down his barriers and fall forward into Sam, who’s all too ready to catch him. “I wake up and it doesn’t feel real.” 

Sam opens his mouth to speak but Dean talks first, very surprising in itself, before one even considers his words. 

“We’ve been through so much, Sammy. We’ve bled for each other, turned our backs on one another and even hated each other sometimes. Cas he’s... he’s caused us to become a family, for real, but he had to give up his _wings,_ Sam. Even with this, this place, I just don’t see a happy ending for us. I don’t see a happy ending for me. Cas can’t get rid of the nightmares anymore, and that’s okay. They’re real anyway, about losing you, about me driving you and Cas away...”

And now there’s tears streaming down both of their faces, and Sam puts all his effort into wiping Dean’s away. “Dean...”

“I’m just so tired, Sam, and I still feel like shit. Sometimes, I think I’m an outsider, and I want to be. It’s not because of you...”

“You have to let go, Dean,” Sam presses. “Whatever guilt you’re feeling, you have to let it go and let me and Cas catch you. We always will, Dean, because you’re worth it. “It’s easy to love you because you are the best person I know.” He’s shocked to see Dean blush, even more to notice Dean’s lack of protest. “And you are so beautiful,” Sam continues, locking his lips with Dean’s, hands automatically straying to his brother’s face and cherishing every bit of skin he touches. 

Dean wraps his arms around Sam and lets him take his weight for only a few moments, just a brief glitch in time before he clears his throat. 

“Your thumb okay?”

Sam looks down at him, starting to feel the pain again from blocking it out before. “Yeah, think I might have broken it though. Don’t worry about it...,” but Dean still pulls him into the kitchen to survey it himself and Sam lets him, remembering his promise, that after his brother let go of whatever it was that he was holding inside, whatever it was that was killing him, he would let Dean take care of him again. 

He sighs, leans back against the counter and smiles at Dean. He’s made progress, finally he’s made...

Cas comes into the room then and wraps his arms around the the both of them, bringing them together, a gesture meant to last for a lifetime. “My stupid _stupid_ Winchester boys.”

“Hey, we’re not...,” and Sam kisses Dean for so long that when he pulls away, Castiel having his way with him next, he’s confident that Dean’s completely lost sight of whatever he was previously saying. 

And Sam, for the first time, lets relief fill him up so quickly and unrelentingly that it’s blinding. 

 

_Day Nine ~ Drowning_

The next day, Sam forgets entirely about the roof, both he and Cas focused on spending time with Dean. His nightmares appeared with a vengeance last night and they had both tried to accommodate him in any and every way possible when they woke him up. Sam had sat up, positioning Dean’s head so it rested in his lap, playing with his hair. Cas meanwhile, deep sorrow clouding his features after touching Dean and remembering that power wasn’t within him anymore, put his fingers to other wonderful uses: a back massage. Sam was soon smiling at the confidence and happiness Castiel exuded, to know that he could at least do this for Dean. 

Working together, Dean had finally fallen under the care of a restful, peaceful sleep. 

And Sam realized that maybe they could make this work after all. 

Sam sinks into a light doze after that, waking up to find the bed empty of Dean. He listens for a moment and finally hears the shower running, closes his eyes again until there’s a hand shaking him awake and someone saying his name. He groans, opens his eyes to see Cas looking at him questioningly, no doubt expecting Sam to explain about what happened between him and Dean yesterday. He had been expecting this, and he knows it has to happen because it can’t just be Sam and Dean or Cas and Dean anymore, they need to work all this shit out together, the three of them. 

“You should get some more sleep, Cas,” he mumbles and yawns loudly, “you look tired.”

Castiel only runs a hand soothingly up and down his back, “Dean had another nightmare last night.” His voice is soft but it still causes Sam to fully wake and pace about the room. He runs a hand through his hair, pissed he wasn’t awake for it. “You were out cold, Sam,” Cas reassures, “I handled it.”

“What did he say?” Sam’s mind races, “What happened? And Cas...,” he notices the sad look in his eyes, realizes he hasn’t been fair to him for any of this, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about that right now, you were right to be mad before. I should have told you, you had a right to know. This frustrates me as much as it does you, Sam, but honestly, he seemed okay when he woke up this morning.” Sam nearly wants to contradict that statement but doesn’t, Castiel usually knows when Dean is hiding things. “He just said he kept reliving me falling...”

Sam kept on seeing it too, but Castiel always brought him back from the edge. 

“Just? Dean gave up hunting for me, Cas, and now there's nothing to keep the nightmares at bay. You can't tell me not to feel some guilt over that. I want to help him, he's my big brother. It's funny, all those times when he died, it was unexpected, even when he was minutes away from going to hell for me, I still stupidly thought there was a chance. That there would always be a chance. But now? Now I'm watching him leave me and I can't do anything to stop it, Cas. He finally gave into my demands and I can’t even do anything to help him.”

He just wants to get up and scream at this shit-hole of a world, at Dean’s stupid guilt complex, scream until his voice is hoarse. 

Sam instantly regrets complaining to Cas because of course he feels the exact same way. He used to be able to take his nightmares away whenever he had them, Sam would wake up in the middle of the night and watch him sometimes, knowing how conflicted Castiel must be to be going against Dean’s wishes. He always gave in and put his big brother in a better state of mind though, a better dreamworld. 

And now, his touch does nothing but offer comfort. A comfort that isn’t going to save Dean. 

“One step at a time, Sam. That’s more than most get.” Sam wants to snort and say ‘yeah right, we’re the Winchesters, we don’t do one step at a time anymore,’ but he doesn’t, deciding it’s better for both of them if he just agrees. There must be some way to help Dean, some method they haven’t tried yet. Castiel gave up most of his resourcefulness since he fell though, even if Sam wants to kick himself for saying it. 

Sam changes the subject; this is stressing him out too much and he can talk to Dean later. 

“Got some tools and stuff, figured we can be the determining factor of whether this place collapses on top of us or not.” Cas shoots him a glare and shoves him lightly, still, Sam nearly topples off the bed. “Don’t get me wrong, Cas,” he chuckles, “you’ve got a great eye and all, but this house isn’t quite fit to live in.” There’s leaks and cracks everywhere, as well as other worrying maintenance issues. 

Dean crashes on the couch with the two of them after breakfast, asking Sam to read to him when Castiel’s busy making brownies in the kitchen and he does, doesn’t stop until a while after his brother finally succumbs to sleep. He’ll pout when he finds out that Sam was the one who got to eat the remainder of the brownie batter, which he happily does, but it’s worth it for Dean to get some sleep, worth Sam watching how relaxed he becomes. He listens to his breathing to discover that it sounds pretty much back to normal, and although he’s slightly pale, he still shines with indescribable beauty in Sam’s eyes. 

In this quiet peace, with the mouth-watering smell of brownies baking in the other room, it’s hard to believe that when nighttime hits a massive thunderstorm comes, one that literally drowns them out of the house they’ve already started calling their home. 

 

_Day Ten ~ Christmas_

If someone told Sam he would be drowned out of his own house, he would have laughed it off as the last possible thing that could happen, even with the leaks. It seems that they’ve been cursed though, the world seeing fit to leave them with no home. 

It’s not like their break was long, it was barely over a freaking week. 

The house falling down around them is a blur. Sam remembers hearing a loud cracking noise and looking up just in time to see the roof start to collapse. He remembers that his first instinct was to reach for a dozing Dean, shaking him awake and practically throwing him off the couch and in the direction of the door, jumping off the couch after him and catching him when he fell from disorientation. Dean must have come to his senses and run out the door after that, because Sam remembers heading into the kitchen next to find Cas, and it’s the last thing he can recall too before blacking out. 

He woke up in water as he was sinking under it, and he fought his way up to the seemingly far away surface with every bit of strength he had left from all that had happened in the past nine days. 

When he surfaces it’s still raining, thick droplets of water hitting his face, blinding him. Frantic, he turns around and around in the freezing water, his vision overcome by the rain and darkness still flitting around the edges of his vision. He vaguely sees that their house is no longer in sight, their wonderful little house that Cas picked out, that they were only just starting to make into a home. 

Still, through his coughing and gasping for breath, catching sight of Dean and Castiel latching onto each other not too far away, he can’t help but smile and swim easily through the rapidly lessening water over to them, as if he were merely doing laps in a pool. Cas grabs hold of him first, fisting his hand in his shirt and drawing him close as Dean looks him over. When he’s satisfied enough, Dean grabs his arm tightly to keep him near as well, even as the water spreads out over the land around them and blessedly leaves them. 

Freak storm? Never thought he would check that off his list. 

Where the hell did all this water come from anyway?

Balance forsakes them when there’s nothing left to swim in, and the three of them fall unceremoniously down onto the ground, covering themselves in mud along with the water they’re weighed down in. Completely soaked and filthy, they clutch each other, as if one were about to disappear at any moment. Considering this past week, who could blame them? Dean’s the first to find his footing, helping the two of them up and surveying their surroundings. 

Well, the house is gone. 

But at least they’re alive and relatively unhurt; Sam now notices the gash marring Dean’s face, sluggishly bleeding. 

“What the hell just happened? Did we just have our freaking house out us and then someone try to drown us?”

“Yep,” Sam nods and Castiel grabs Dean’s hand and pulls him back beside the two of them, Dean breaking out of shock for a moment to wipe some mud off of the ex-angel’s face and kiss him. Cas returns both gestures, eyeing Dean’s wound worriedly. 

That’s when the music starts up, out of nowhere, echoing around them, above them and below them as if it comes from the very earth itself.

“Is it just me,” Castiel ponders, “or is ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas?’ currently playing?”

Sam can’t help but lose himself in how strange this is all becoming, as if it wasn’t weird enough two seconds ago. He stands in place, copiously entranced and he doesn’t want to think or worry about anything anymore, so he gives in, he gives into all that this moment is. 

Dean is shaking his head in disbelief and walking away, saying somewhere off in the distance, “Fuck it all,” and Sam is laughing and crying at the same time, Cas grabbing hold of him and pulling him in, water dripping off their hair and into each other’s eyes, burning them, as they kiss. He breaks away for a moment, screaming, “Dean, get your ass over here! We’re cold!” Sam doesn’t hear a response or even see Dean though, and he pulls Cas along with him as he searches the woods, hoping he doesn’t have to venture in too deep. He can feel Castiel shivering against him and he pulls him closer. After about ten minutes of walking Sam is entirely fed up, considering heading back and waiting for Dean to gain enough sense to join them in the car, but then he sees lights up ahead and points them out to Castiel. 

Cas seems more shocked than even he is and drags Sam along this time. When they finally stop, two sets of eyes are lighting up in awe, faces displaying shock before suspicion and Sam doesn’t look over, but he feels Dean come up beside him, wrapping an arm around him, reaching over to ruffle Castiel’s dripping hair. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Sam doesn’t even know what to say, he certainly never had the time to set this up. Sure, he bought the materials and Castiel picked out the tree, but with his preoccupation with Dean’s condition and Cas doing everything he possibly could to distract him, he hadn’t even gained a stroke of luck to fix the leak in the roof. In answer, his thumb rewards him with viciously throbbing, but the sight before him definitely distracts him again. 

So who did have time to do this?

“Hoped you guys would like it.”

The lights are blinding as they illuminate the massive pine tree before them, seeing to reach far away into the lightening sky, a beautiful sunrise putting on a show for them all. There are colors in every shade and hue, seemingly millions of them as they circle around the tree, sparkling without the need for electricity, seeming to dance as the rising sun reflects off of them. Sam is still left too much in awe to look away, he already knows who the words came from anyway. It just doesn’t make any sense. 

_Gabriel..._

The music’s still playing, its presence a comforting and warm weight surrounding Sam. He finally looks over and confirms his suspicions, watching as Gabriel steps back as if to survey his impressive display. Honestly? It is the most wondrous sight he has ever seen. He recognizes some of these lights as the ones he picked out, but he never bought this many, they hadn’t even sold this many. 

Gabriel winks at him and Sam looks up to see the sky erupt into vibrant shades of gold and bubblegum pink and cherry red, twirling together and creating their own mesmerizing hue. He can feel Castiel take his hand and draws strength from it, Dean’s arm wrapped around him, possessive and brotherly. 

Sam smiles, tears forming in his eyes. Sometimes... sometimes things just work out. 

It seems Christmas has come earlier this year after all.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe I actually wrote this much. What am I doing with my life? Brushing that aside, it was thoroughly exhilarating to write and I’m actually really intrigued to turn this into a series, and I just might if I can get enough ideas. Thanks so much for reading.


End file.
